Within
by Meltha
Summary: When Drusilla killed Kendra, what did the Slayer see in those eyes? One possibility. 1 of 1


Author:  Meltha 

Feedback:  Thank you very much.  Melpomenethalia@aol.com

Rating:  PG

Distribution:  Fanfiction.net and the Bunny Warren.  If you're interested, please let me know.

Spoilers:  Takes place during Becoming 1

Summary:  When Drusilla killed Kendra, what did the Slayer see in those eyes?  One possibility.

Disclaimer:  All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy.  Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you.  Thank you.

Within

            Blue and brown met suddenly.  The gift that had both destroyed and preserved Drusilla was one few people could really comprehend.  The Sight.  The ability to see that which was hidden from the rest of the world was hers.  It had been her birthright, and now it would be the Slayer's death.

            "Be in my eyes.  Be in me."

            Such simple words, but there was much behind them.  It was not merely a command or a threat; it was a promise as well.  For a moment, the Caribbean girl had fought, trying not to follow the path of the vampire's painted nails to the strange, clear eyes.  Even if she hadn't known what the woman was, a simple look at her eyes would have told her this one knew things beyond what mortals should know, beyond what they were capable of understanding without the delicate crystal goblet of sanity snapping off at the stem and spilling the contents of the human mind.

            The dance looked, from the vantage point of those outside it, to last only seconds, but as with many things, looks were deceiving.  In a moment, the secret desires of the young girl were laid bare to the penetrating stare, and Drusilla saw something that both startled and delighted her.  

            Sameness.

            Years passed inside those few seconds, years when every detail of Slayer's life played out in the theatre of Drusilla's mind.  The tiny village surrounded by palm trees dancing in the wind, the secluded bay where she had dared to turn her back to the land and watch the colors of the sunset one perfect day, only to be beaten by her Watcher for carelessness and lack of vigilance.  She saw separation from family and a life without a self, a life that was no life at all.  

            The dark-skinned girl had once dreamed of living as others did, but she was told over and over that this was wrong.  Bravery, strength, and subservience had been the result of her upbringing.  But beneath it all, in a place no one had ever delved, in a secret chamber of her heart Drusilla was able to enter because of the longing it held, Kendra had dared to dream of what life would be like without the Gift that kept her forever separate.  If her talent had not been discovered, if the others had not come to take her away from her family, from the existence that might have been hers, what would have happened to her?

            Strange mercy was granted the prey by the huntress.  In those remaining seconds, Kendra saw with her heart.  She saw the greatest desires of her life come to pass.  In a moment, the past was written over.  Like a sculptor, Drusilla created a different world.  The child had grown to womanhood on the beach she remembered from long ago, the darling of her parents' eyes.  There had been laughter and joy, jokes and celebrations.  Hunger and want and fear were unknown in her life and the lives of those around her.  She met a handsome young man with eyes the color of chocolate, they fell and love, and they married.  Two children were born to them, a son and a daughter.  She lived to see them grow up and marry as well, and her grandchildren played at her feet as she sat on her front porch steps, gazing out over the sea to a sunset of such angelic beauty that it seemed the gates of heaven had swung open to allow a vision of paradise to grace the sky.  Her life had been perfect.

            And in that moment, unfelt, the nails slashed her throat.


End file.
